


Hunted

by Child_OTKW



Series: War Games [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Altean Keith (Voltron), Galra Keith (Voltron), Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 21:50:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Child_OTKW/pseuds/Child_OTKW
Summary: He had had the lion in his possession for centuries, a constant reminder of everything he had lost, still and silent and mocking as she refused Galra after Galra. Each worthy in their own right, yet not enough to establish the necessary bond with the tempestuous lion.

  And now, she had chosen a child – a human child, to share her power with.

  It invoked his curiosity. He wanted to know what the Red Lion saw in her new Paladin, what about this child eclipsed all those he had presented to her throughout the years.
Zarkon grows particularly interested in the Red Paladin, and the more information he gathers about the strange creature, the more he believes the child is on the wrong side of this war.





	

There was the bitter sting of disappointment in his chest as the corrupted wormhole snapped shut mere ticks after the Castle and her lions limped through.

Disappointment at having been thwarted by the last remaining echo of a dead enemy, and five inexperienced Paladins. At having his prize slip through his fingers like water. 

But underneath the bitterness and anger, was a niggling, keen _interest_.

It burned at the back of his mind, along with the image of the Red Lion’s slick movements during their short battle. The way her pilot manoeuvred her so gracefully, weaving in between his hits. The way she refused to stay down and accept defeat. The ferocity behind her attacks.

It had been exhilarating to witness the Red Lion in battle again; he had always held her in high esteem and raw as her Paladin was, the potential to be legendary was there. He had been able to see it first-hand, how dangerous her pilot could be.

The materialisation of the Red Lion’s cannon was proof of that. All the lions held specialised weapons, but out of all of them, the Red Lion had the most dangerous array at her disposal. There was a reason she was revered for her deadliness. 

To be able to summon one of these specialised weapons took a great deal of will power and perfect synchronisation between the lion and the pilot. Being able to conjure her most dangerous weapon was a credit to the Red Paladin.

But it also made him wary, that one of his enemies was already so interconnected with the Red Lion. And yet, it merely doubled his fascination.

He had had the lion in his possession for centuries, a constant reminder of everything he had lost, still and silent and mocking as she refused Galra after Galra. Each worthy in their own right, yet not enough to establish the necessary bond with the tempestuous lion.

And now, she had chosen a child – a human child, to share her power with.

It invoked his curiosity. He wanted to know what the Red Lion saw in her new Paladin, what about this child eclipsed all those he had presented to her throughout the years.

Zarkon remembered Chulav intimately and fondly.

The way she had held herself, the fury that blazed in her eyes, the way her slim form had oozed a sense of innate danger.

He remembered how she would throw her head back and the harsh sound of her laughter as it rumbled from her throat.

How her mind felt, not warm and soft, but biting and like steel, almost crushing with her sense of honour and desire to protect. Comforting and familiar.

And he recalled how, in the midst of battle, she was the most exquisite creature he had ever beheld. 

It was difficult for him to imagine someone – _anyone_ – being able to replace her as the Red Paladin. Of someone, somehow, measuring up to her abilities.

But he knew there must be something about this human that was special enough to form the bond with the Red Lion. There had to be something in the child, because every Red Paladin Zarkon could remember was wild, untamed and feral at their core. It was that that made them so hazardous to their enemies in battle and why, when forming Voltron, the Red Lion was the one to produce the sword – the primary weapon.

Zarkon breezed through the hallways, ignoring the flickering warning lights, the scrambling of his soldiers, the panic and tenseness that permeated the air. There was nothing they could do at the moment to go after their targets, and all he could do was wait for his station to be repaired.

He entered his private quarters, knowing that he would be needed in the command centre soon to assess the damage.

_Damage caused by the Red Lion._

Unbidden, Zarkon pulled up a tablet, quickly scrolling through the information, before tapping on a particular recording. He had been meaning to look through this for some time.

The screen played the security footage, and his illuminous purple eyes tracked the Red Paladin as he approached the shielded lion.

The human was tall, roughly the height of the Champion, but compared to the elegant, stationary form of the lion, he appeared positively diminutive. The armour fit his lean, muscular body like it was made for him though, and there was a sense of confidence in every step as he drew closer to the glowing red shield.

Zarkon watched hungrily, intrigued to see just how the child gained the respect of the notoriously fickle lion. 

It was dissatisfying when the small figure on the recording merely placed his hand against the particle barrier, and his thin, tinny voice echoed through the tablet.

_“Bingo, let’s get out of here, open up. It’s me, Keith, your buddy.”_

The Red Lion did not react. Zarkon was almost amused that the child thought she would so easily accept him.

 _“It’s me_ Keith _, your – I am your Paladin!”_

Keith. He now had a name. It was strange, how closely it resembled the word _keirien_ , the Altean word for warrior; and fitting, from what he had seen during their encounter.

The child smacked his palm twice against the barrier, impatience clearly visible in how tensely he held himself. He completely missed the entrance of a squad of sentries, though after they started firing, the child reacted swiftly and raised his armour’s shield.

 _“I’m bonding with you!”_ The Paladin called up at the lion, _“Hey, come on! We’re connected!”_

Even as he spoke, he summoned his bayard and turned to charge at the attacking sentries. His voice was raised, filled with fire as he shouted at the machines, _“You’re not getting this lion!”_

Zarkon watched as the small figure cut through two sentries with his sword, moving as smoothly as a trained soldier. Though his gaze was dragged away from the child as he was sent sprawling back, and to the Red Lion – whose eyes had flickered briefly.

And in the next moments, he understood perfectly why the lion had bestowed this human with the honour of being her Paladin.

Without pause, the child opened the hangar’s airlock. It was such a reckless, foolish, _idiotic_ move, that could only end in death.

And it was precisely what he would have expected from Chulav.

He watched as debris connected with the small, armoured form and sent him tumbling through the airlock after his sentries, and out of his line of sight. Zarkon turned his attention to the lion, saw as her particle barrier – that had stood for hundreds of years – flickered and fell, and she shot herself out after the human.

Seeing this scene did nothing to abate his interest. If anything, it caused it to expand and become something more.

Zarkon moved a finger across the screen.

 _“It’s me_ Keith _, your – I am your Paladin!”_

_“I’m bonding with you!”_

_“It’s me_ Keith _, your – I am your Paladin!”_

 _“It’s me_ Keith _.”_

# OoO

It was three cycles later when another report was brought to him, delayed due to the repairs the station was undergoing. It was brought to him directly from Haggar, and that was the only reason he did not put it to the side to be dealt with later. 

The Head Druid’s lips had been pulled up in a crooked smile as she had handed him the datapad. 

It was a simple incident report, but as he read more, he could feel his interest re-emerging.

It appeared the Red Paladin – _Keith_ , he remembered – had battled one of Haggar’s druids in the middle of one of their quintessence plants.

The report was succinct, and did not detail the exact events of the fight, but one particular sentence caught his full attention and stirred something inside him.

_The assailant was doused in a container of quintessence. No immediate reaction was observed._

Zarkon’s eyes cut to Haggar, demanding answers without speaking. The druid ducked her head in deference. “I have viewed the memories myself, my Emperor. The Red Paladin was indeed sprayed with a concentrated amount of quintessence, and showed no adverse signs to it.”

Her small, thin hands came up and in between them, a ball of energy flickered to life. 

Zarkon watched as the druid’s memories played by, watched as the Red Paladin battled an opponent he could not hope to defeat, watched as he was struck by magic and sent hurtling into a container of pure, unrefined quintessence. He observed as the child stood and escaped, the last image was of him slipping into the Green Lion’s open mouth.

“What do you make of this new development, Haggar?”

The Head Druid joined her hands together and hid them in the folds of her cloak. “It is a troubling notion, my Emperor. Only certain beings can handle physical contact with quintessence and not be damaged as a result.”

She tilted her head, and long strands of her hair fell loose. “From our observations of the Champion’s physiology, his species is not one that possesses the necessary components to handle _any_ pure quintessence. The amount of raw quintessence this Paladin was exposed to should have burned the flesh from his bones, and yet, he appears unaffected.”

Zarkon let her words settle in his mind. The idea was an interesting one, certainly. “Which species do we know of that could survive contact with that much quintessence?”

“Only two, my Emperor. Galrans and Alteans.” The smile on Haggar’s face grew sharper. “He is an _istylni_. It is the only explanation.”

Zarkon hummed, leaning back in his seat to contain the spark of anticipation he felt at the news.

A potential _istylni_. How unexpected.

It was possible that this child was the offspring of a Galra; he had already addressed the similarities between his fighting style and their own. But his features…he possessed no physical attributes of their kind.

Even a half-breed would have some indication of a shared parentage. 

Which brought his attention to the second species that Haggar listed.

He had always known a handful of Alteans had survived his assault on their homeworld. It was almost impossible to eliminate an entire species when so many of them could travel through space. 

But over ten thousand years, he would have thought the vermin would have diminished completely. 

It appeared he was incorrect in that regard.

Alteans were a chameleon-race, capable of shifting their features to match another species if the need called for it. 

The idea was absurd, a Galra and an Altean mating, but the longer he thought of it, the more his doubt wavered.

An Altean child, with the strength, speed and ferocity of a Galra would be an incredible creation. The combination of the two species, in one body, opened a door to limitless possibilities.

And if the Red Paladin was, indeed, an _istylni_ of Galra and Altean descent, then his worth was now incalculable.

“There is more, my Emperor.”

He returned his attention to Haggar, and gestured for her to continue.

“We have located the Red Paladin’s quintessence signature; it might be possible to detect him, and his allies, should you desire.”

“Have you established a connection already?”

Haggar bowed her head, “Not as of yet, my Emperor. We merely watch him.” A flash of something darted across her eyes, and he gazed piercingly at her. “It appears he is aware of our presence.” She admitted, “He grows paranoid whenever we turn our attention on him. It is…unusual, that a being is able to sense us so effectively.”

The news surprised him, as there were few who could tell when the druids turned their eye on them. Though perhaps he should not be so caught off guard, that his little Paladin was one of those few. It seemed the child was constantly doing things to capture his attention.

A smile pulled at his scared lips. “You will continue to observe him, and when the time comes, I will speak to him.”

Haggar did not react to his announcement. Likely, she had already noted his interest in the child, and had guessed he wished to possess him.

“It will be done, my Emperor.” She bowed, and left him to his work.

Zarkon allowed himself a few moments to ponder over this news, to imagine just how useful this child could be if he could be swayed from the Altean Princess’ cause. He recalled how vicious the Red Paladin was, and knew that such a warrior would be highly valued, with or without his lion.

One thing was for certain, he could not allow the Princess to know of the boy’s heritage. If she discovered that the boy was possibly of Altean descent, she would undoubtedly tighten her hold over him in some desperate desire to rekindle her race.

The thought of her claiming the Red Paladin as an Altean was unacceptable. The boy might not look it, but he was the embodiment of a Galra soldier; he did not belong with those pathetic, peace-advocating creatures.

For now, he would have to wait until the time was right, and he could communicate with the child properly. There was not much he could do, so until then, he was content to begin his hunt for his other target.

The shield did not fall on its own, after all. The wounds on the sentries suggested a Galra blade, and only one of their own would be able to so effectively wipe the security footage from that section of the station.

The thought of a traitor in his midst did not fill him with anger, but rather excitement. He had known for a long time that there was a faction of spies lurking amongst his loyal soldiers. This was just the confirmation he needed.

Now all he had to do was find the Galra brave – or should he say foolish – enough to think they could somehow upset his rule over the universe.

# OoO

A _keall_ had passed before Haggar had returned to him saying that the connection was firm enough to hold a longer interaction. The news brought a dark grin to his face, because he intended to use this opportunity fully.

He was not entirely surprised when he was projected into a hangar, right in front of the Red Lion. He stared at her beautiful figure for a long time, until a voice – familiar, but sounding much more forceful in person than through the security footage – spoke up.

“How did you find us? How did you get aboard?”

He allowed his eyes to trail leisurely from the lion to her Paladin.

For the first time, he was given an unobstructed view of the spitfire pilot who had so thoughtlessly sacrificed himself to give him teammates time to regroup.

Without his shining armour, he was much thinner than expected – certainly much smaller than the Champion was – but Zarkon could see the boy was still strong. Much like his lion, he relied on speed and agility take down his opponents.

He ignored the child’s fruitless questions, though felt a wave of amusement when the Paladin reached out with his mind for his lion. That could not be allowed to happen. 

One of the benefits of being the Paladin of the Black Lion, was that he had such an innate understanding of how the bond between lion and pilot worked. It was how he had so easily separated Voltron during their unsteady assault, and it was how he blocked off the child’s connection to his lion.

He could spot the way the _istylni_ flinched at having been cut off so suddenly, though, like a soldier, he recovered quickly. And that was why he let the compliment slip from his lips, because since their battle, this child had proven himself to be a worthy enemy. 

Zarkon might be a conqueror, but he appreciated an opponent that could hold their own. Which was why he merely dodged the frenzied attack the Paladin launched at him. It pleased him greatly to see that this one did not hold back, and aimed for his most vulnerable places.

That type of bloodthirstiness could not be bred. It made him want to know what this child’s life must have been like to nurture such an attitude.

When the child leapt at him, he carefully changed his solidity so his small body flew through him and crashed to the ground behind him. He heard the growl of frustration that originated from the Paladin, and the sound of it had him almost shaking in exhilaration.

Because it was a sub vocal noise that he had only ever heard from a Galra. It was all the proof he needed that this boy belonged with him.

Tired with the attacks, he disappeared and used the opportunity to disarm and pin the _istylni_ to the leg of his own lion.

The initial struggle the Paladin put up was pleasing, but the feel of the long, lean body going limp against him was unlike anything he could have imagined. He could not contain the purr that rolled through him.

When he spoke to the _istylni_ , he was more interested in the faint twitches of his body rather than the words he snarled. He enjoyed the way those muscles bunched and coiled under his hand, the way the child’s threats choked off as he applied more pressure to him.

It was invigorating. 

And the way the boy only hesitated for a moment before answering his question.

“I will be killed – public execution, to make a statement to anyone who wants to try and stop you after us. Or…” The trepidation in his voice was lovely. “you’ll put me in the arena to fight, like you did with Shiro.”

The idea of this fiery, vicious creature in his arena made him bare his teeth in a feral grin. This _istylni_ would look stunning drenched in the blood of his enemies. But he was so very entertained at how those were the only two options the child foresaw.

Because Zarkon now knew exactly what he wanted from this being. Having his body pinned against his own, listening to his snapping, feeling his _defiance_ – there was no way he would be satisfied with only having the Paladin as a soldier.

He gave into the desire to touch the _istylni_ , to dig his claws into his hip and _brand_. The child’s trembles grew more pronounced the longer they spoke, and the absolute fear and rage that mangled the boy’s scent was intoxicating.

He had never met a being that was so rebellious. Even the Champion had cowered whenever he was dragged before Zarkon. 

It was not enough – he wanted to see the child’s face properly, so he could see the emotions on his naked features.

“You would be _mine_.”

“I belong to no one.” The voice that came from the child was hardly the one he had been speaking with before. It was guttural and borderline savage. 

The sheer insolence. 

He allowed the _istylni_ to fall to the chilly hangar floor, and unabashedly enjoyed the sight of him on his knees before him. He promised himself it would not be the last time this happened.

When the breathy question of “Why?” slipped from the child’s mouth, Zarkon had no issue with revealing his motive.

“You interest me, and your heritage makes you even more desirable to have.”

He could see the confusion bloom in those violet eyes, and the confirmation that the Paladin had no knowledge of his parentage was stimulating. He offered his ultimatum, and gifted the child with a hint.

If he was smart enough to discover his unique status, then Zarkon would be pleased. If he did not, then it was no matter. He could reveal the truth to the boy once he had him firmly in his grasp.

He had no doubt that the expression on the child’s face when he was told he was half-Galra would be exquisite. Watching as his face crumpled and the sharp denial came to his eyes would be better than harvesting an entire quadrant’s quintessence.

# OoO

Voltron continued to pose a nuisance, rushing around and freeing a number of planets from his hold and expanding their influence over his Empire like a virus.

It was futile though. He had had ten thousand years to breed out the notion of freedom from his subjects, and for every planet the Princess and her Paladins liberated, ten more were conquered in a matter of cycles.

It was beginning to resemble a game between them, and despite himself Zarkon was enjoying the challenge – however minor it was. After so long of reigning unopposed, it was interesting to have something fight back.

He devoured all reports of Voltron that crossed his desk, learning how his enemy functioned, and how well they worked together. He viewed footage of their battles, studying their flight patterns and their response times.

In particular, he watched the _istylni_.

He had not attempted to contact the child again after their lengthy conversation, but his mind would often stray to that night. 

He could still feel the warmth of the Red Paladin’s body, could still hear the small growls he unconsciously released. 

Zarkon could admit he was disappointed that the child had not taken him up on his offer, but he supposed he should not have expected otherwise from such a stubborn being. And to be honest, the thought of capturing him was much more inspiring. 

Five _kealls_ trickled passed.

And finally, news reached him of the seizure of two of the Paladins. 

The Red and Yellow.

Zarkon had ordered their transport to his own warship, and in a matter of cycles, he was greeted to the sight of two Paladins being dragged into his throne room.

Opposed to his belief, the _istylni_ was not the one putting up the customary fight. It was the large Yellow Paladin that was thrashing in the guards’ hold, voice high-pitched and reeking of fear.

Zarkon turned his attention to his little Paladin.

Unlike his companion, the child was stiff in the guards’ grip, allowing himself to be hauled across the vast room. But his eyes were alert, scanning his surroundings with all the calculations of a tactician. 

There was a metal gag strapped around his mouth, and a deep purple bruise along the side of his head – only visible when his sweaty hair shifted.

Both of them were covered in dirt and their armour scorched, though he noted that the _istylni_ had a wound covering his side, his skin burnt and bleeding.

At his right hand, Lotor shifted pointedly, his son’s gaze flickering between the two Paladins; studying them and finding them lacking. Zarkon smirked at his son’s ignorance.

He straightened in his seat, pleased when the _istylni_ ’s eyes snapped to him in an instant and filled with unfathomable hatred. He gestured for the guard to remove the gag.

It fell to the floor with a dull _thunk_ , and the Red Paladin took the time to run his tongue over his teeth before looking up at him blankly.

“Paladin.” He greeted, and the Yellow one flinched.

“Zarkon.”

He did not know how it was possible to make his name sound like an insult, but it amused him to no end. The guard harshly jabbed her gun into the boy’s back, and with a grunt he collapsed to his knees.

The _istylni_ ’s lips curled upwards in a snarl, but otherwise he stayed where he was, hands bound securely behind his back. That familiar anger being kept tightly in check. He briefly wondered why the boy was so reserved, but the way those expressive violet eyes speedily darted to his companion before returning to him told him more than enough.

It was a logical conclusion, that acting out might bring pain to the Yellow Paladin, and it was an idea he would have to explore.

“We meet again, as I knew we would.”

The boy’s face stubbornly remained blank, though Zarkon knew he was definitely thinking of both of their previous encounters; that he would remember the sensation of his claws digging into his flesh.

“Unfortunate that your lions were not with you at the time.”

There, a splash of possessiveness. “I think I speak for all the lions when I say they’d rather be scrap metal then in your clutches.”

Lotor hissed lowly at the blatant disrespect, hand tightening around his sword, and next to him the Yellow Paladin moaned quietly in despair. “ _Keith_ , don’t antagonise him for the love of God.”

Zarkon’s lips twitched upwards as he pushed himself to stand. Instantly, the guards corrected their hold on the prisoners, in case either attempted to break free and attack the Emperor as he approached.

The _istylni_ straightened his back and glared with all the fire of a sun. “Careful, child,” He admonished lightly, “or I will _personally_ reapply your gag. Your spirit is amusing, but you will be respectful.”

“Will I?” The child whispered, eyes darkening as his rage grew. “Respect is earned, not freely given.”

Zarkon reached out and grasped his chin, the position an exact copy of the one that night so many _kealls_ ago. 

“You will learn to behave, little soldier. I will have your loyalty eventually.”

“There are only six people alive that have my loyalty and you are not one of them.”

“Yes,” Zarkon agreed, greatly enjoying this and the confusion he could feel from all those present. “and, fortunately, we have one with us.”

The boy’s body stilled even as his eyes slid over to the Yellow Paladin. The larger boy tried to hunch over when Zarkon tilted his head to look at him, grin stretching across his face.

He moved to stand before the other, well aware of how the _istylni_ attempted to surge to his feet, only to be forced back to his knees by two of the guards. His protests were more growls then actual words.

The Yellow one trembled in front of him, but to the child’s credit he met his gaze steadily. “I wonder how much it would take to get you to scream?” Fear shone in the Paladin’s big, soft eyes. 

“Or, more accurately, I wonder how much it would take to get your friend to _beg_?”


End file.
